


A Proper Sort of Girl

by summerborn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Blow Jobs, Drama, F/M, Romance, Slytherins, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-01
Updated: 2007-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerborn/pseuds/summerborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa Black wants a fiery, passionate lover, but she is engaged to the boring Lucius Malfoy. And she must do the right thing, just as soon as she figures out what that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Sort of Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lj: creepingviolet, who requested "a little plot and a little angst, especially if it all works out in the end" as part of the 2007 lj: wizard_love exchange. Tremendous thanks are due to X for the beta.
> 
> <http://summerborn.dreamwidth.org/profile>

-:-

There was nothing like the hot insistence of Rodolphus' lips tearing at her, devouring her throat, shoulder, collarbone. Narcissa's eyes fluttered closed as he moved farther down, tugging the neckline of her robes down so that he could get at the soft pale flesh beneath.

"Wait, there's something—oh!" She gasped.

God, he was good at that. Narcissa tried to draw a breath, needing to tell him what had happened that afternoon, but the heaving of her chest only made Rodolphus groan and kiss her more fiercely. One of his hands slid up along her thigh, and again she considered putting off this conversation. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

 _No. Tell him._

"Wait," she managed to say, and this time she took hold of a handful of his hair and yanked back, hard.

Rodolphus looked up at her, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Want to play it that way, do you?"

She scowled. "Will you listen to me for a minute?"

"Of course," Rodolphus said, instantly contrite. "Tell me what you want, my love. I'll do anything." His hand squeezed gently over the curve of her hip, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep her body from reacting like it wanted to.

"I—I'm going to marry Lucius Malfoy."

For a moment, Rodolphus' expression didn't change. Then, slowly, he moved back, until he was less lying on top of her and more sitting next to her on the small sofa.

"I don't want to," she said, trying not to feel anxious about this. They'd both known something like it was bound to happen. "You know you're the one that I love. But you're unavailable now, and Mother expects..."

"Do _not_ blame me for this," Rodolphus broke in harshly. "You know as well as I do that our parents set up my marriage to Bellatrix before you were even born."

She twisted her hands in her lap. "I know that. And you knew that I would end up betrothed to someone else."

Rodolphus sighed. "You're right. But... Lucius Malfoy? He's such a... _prude._ "

Narcissa's voice turned sharp. "Do not speak of my future husband that way. You sound like a jealous schoolboy."

"Well how do you expect me to feel? You think I should be glad that you're going to marry another man?"

"What did you expect _me_ to do? Sit around pining while you're off being married to my sister?"

Rodolphus slid onto his knees on the floor beside the sofa and gripped her hand. "She doesn't expect me to be faithful; we talked about that already. We still have _this,_ these nights when she is working for _him._ We could still have this, my love."

Narcissa scoffed. "Surely if she knew it was _me_ you were being unfaithful with, her attitude would change."

"Lucius might be willing, if you approach him the right way. Most arranged marriages have these sorts of understandings." He sounded almost hopeful.

Slowly, painfully, she shook her head. "I won't keep seeing you after I'm married."

Without another word, Rodolphus got to his feet. He looked down at her for a moment and then turned, crossed the room to lean against a windowsill, and bowed his head.

Her heart lurched at the sight, and she longed to say something, to point out that she wasn't married _yet,_ and maybe they could have one more night... but she knew this was his way of exerting some measure of control on the situation. Better a clean break, she told herself as she stood and prepared to Floo home, but she did not believe it.

-:-

A week later, she was looking over the guest list with her mother when Rodolphus' owl came swooping through the window.

"Isn't that the Lestrange owl?" Mrs. Black frowned at the bird.

The letter landed in Narcissa's lap, and she recognized her lover's handwriting. "It's from Bella," she told her mother, slipping the envelope into a pocket. "I'll read it later."

"Speaking of Bellatrix, my dear, have you considered whether you want to ask her to be matron of honor?"

She nodded, glad for the change of subject. "I'd like that. Of course, she's going to need new robes."

Mrs. Black beamed. "Yes, dear, of course. I think if we order them sometime next week..."

Later, in her room, she sat on the edge of her bed and cradled the heavy envelope in her hands. How many pieces of parchment were in there? What could it say that she would want to read?

If he begged her to reconsider, or asked her to meet him one last time, she might cave and lose her resolve entirely. On the other hand, if he was merely congratulating her on her engagement, if he was cold and distant and just wished her well, she might die of heartache. Carefully, she held the envelope by a corner and set it aflame with her wand. She tilted it, watching it burn, and when the flames licked at her fingertips she dropped it onto the letter tray on her desk, letting the fire consume any trace of what might have been written. Of what might have been, between them.

-:-

The second letter came as she was being fitted for her wedding robes at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Lucius was waiting in the main shop, in a rare almost-unchaperoned moment as her parents were a few doors down choosing furniture for the "happy couple." When Madam Twilfitt looked up in surprise at the owl, Narcissa just waited. She recognized the bird.

"It's for you, dear," the woman said, handing the envelope over without looking at it. _Smart witch,_ Narcissa thought, accepting it. Rodolphus' handwriting again.

What would she find if she opened this one? Cool, calm logic and measured kindnesses, like she received from Lucius? Or passionate entreaties from a man so madly in love, he would risk being caught out as an adulterer just for the hope that she would read his words? Either way, she didn't want to read it—or couldn't afford to. But she couldn't burn it there in the middle of the shop, so she put it with her regular robes and waited for the woman to be done pinning and hemming.

When the fitting was over, she came out from the fitting area to where Lucius was sitting. He rose to his feet and smiled at her, though it never touched his eyes.

"Everything finished, darling?" He moved forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then offered his arm. Exactly proper. It was obvious he didn't expect her to actually answer, and she wondered for a moment what he would do if she told him there had been some bizarre tailoring accident, and she wouldn't be able to marry him after all.

"Come then," Lucius said when she had placed her hand on his arm, quiet as the grave. "We're to meet your parents for dinner at the club." He held the door for her as they exited the shop.

Narcissa's eyes were drawn to the contrast between her ivory glove and the dark green robe it rested on. Both were of high quality workmanship, in the finest materials, but the _colors_ were so different—like the difference between the man she loved and the man she was going to marry.

She stopped walking.

Lucius paused as well, looking back at her with a vague sort of interest on his face. "Is something the matter?"

That was her cue to demur or just shake her head and continue walking, but Narcissa could feel Rodolphus' letter against her side, the sharp edge a knife between her ribs. She tilted her chin up. "Yes, actually."

Lucius' face betrayed no surprise. If she didn't know better, she would have thought him actually concerned for her. But then, it was probably his image he was really concerned for, she thought. "What is it, dearest?"

"Why do you always hold me away when we walk together? It's like you can't stand to be near me." She was reckless. What could they do to her now?

"It wouldn't be proper to—"

"Proper! I don't care about proper!"

Lucius did glance around, then, taking in the crowds passing them by, some openly listening or watching curiously. Narcissa could see the tension in his jaw as he stepped closer and said, still as polite as ever, "May we discuss this as we walk, darling?" When she hesitated, he added, "I would hate to have to explain our tardiness to your mother."

At least it sounded like he was willing to talk about it. She kept her chin up, but took his arm again, noticing as they started to walk that Lucius was holding her just as far away as always. "Well?" she snarled.

Lucius shot her a look she couldn't decipher. "You know as well as I do that we are bound by certain customs—rules, even—and to flout them would be most improper."

"I hate that word," Narcissa muttered.

"Nevertheless." His free hand touched the back of her fingers for an instant, then it was gone again. "I did not create the rules, Narcissa, but I do know how the game is played."

She tightened her grip, digging her nails into his arm—most unladylike, but he showed no sign of noticing.

They arrived at the club, and Lucius spoke to the host. He turned back to her and arched one silver pale eyebrow, as if to invite whatever comment she'd been holding back.

"How can you be so cold?" she whispered, glancing around at the collected celebrities of wizarding society.

Lucius raised her hand to his lips and murmured against the satin, "Some men are quite different in the privacy of their own homes than they seem in the light of day." He smiled, but again his eyes were calculating, and she looked away.

-:-

The envelope poked her ribs all throughout dinner, but she didn't get a moment to herself until she and her parents were home, and she could escape to her room.

She drew her wand, ready to light the thing on fire, but something made her hesitate. There was still a trace of ash in the letter tray from the first letter.

A moment passed, during which the only sound in Narcissa's ears was the beating of her own heart.

She looked at the writing on the envelope again, tracing the strong, smooth strokes of her name with her fingers. There were no flowery expressions of love that might be intercepted, no hint as to what lay inside. Slowly, she slipped her wand back into the sleeve of her robe and laid the envelope on her desk. She would wait. No sense destroying something that might just be useful for something one day.

-:-

The third letter came the night before her wedding.

After one letter was burned to a crisp and the other unopened, weeks had gone by without so much as a word. She'd seen Bellatrix, at this family event or that planning meeting, but Rodolphus was never with her, and Narcissa couldn't ask about him.

And then, surprisingly, with the evening post, as 'proper' as you please, there came Rodolphus' owl with a smaller envelope this time, addressed only to 'Miss Black'. A cold fist gripped Narcissa's heart, upon reading that—this letter was so different from the other two in size and address—what could it mean? Bad news, surely. Perhaps the first two had professed his undying love, begging for her forgiveness—and this was the final goodbye.

She had to open it.

She snatched the envelope from the owl's claws, heedless of her mother's startled cry or her father's spoon clattering into his dish.

Once the door to her room was closed, bolted, and warded, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single thick piece of parchment, with a coin tucked into the fold. She pulled it out, wonderingly, weighing the heavy ten galleon coin in her palm. With the other hand, she shook open the note so she could read the single line of text.

 _"Keep the change."_

Narcissa read it again, then a third time, and went to find her cloak. After all, there were always options.

-:-

At half past eleven on the night before she became a Malfoy, Narcissa Black was making her way through the streets of London. The ten galleon coin was tucked into a pocket, her parents thought she was in bed asleep, and she had one last night of freedom, of real love, before her life was over.

A few people were still out, moving drunkenly in groups or quietly in singles, like herself. She pulled the hood lower, paused at the entrance to a particularly dark alley, and glanced around. When there was no one in sight, she ducked around the corner, feeling a tingle of magic as the street disappeared from view.

Good. Rodolphus was already here.

She picked her way through the litter and puddles in the alley, knowing it was pointless to try to spot Rodolphus in the gloom. He would find her when he wanted to.

There was no sound but her own breathing, no motion except the rustle of papers. Narcissa reached the end of the alley—a blank, brick wall—and blew out a breath in frustration. Where was he? Surely she hadn't misinterpreted the note.

A hand reached around her, clasping hard over Narcissa's mouth. "Hello darling," a familiar voice breathed in her ear. She stiffened instinctively, and then forced herself to calm down, to show him that this was all right, that she wanted this.

When she was still, he released her and turned her to face him. He looked every inch the gentleman, from his expensive robes to the ribbon in his hair, but the gleam of anticipation in his eye told her what she needed to know.

"You got my note," he said at last. She nodded, and waited as he scanned her from head to toe.

"Worth every Knut," he rasped, and pulled her to him.

Narcissa knew a real prostitute would remain passive, letting the client take the lead, but they'd never cared too much about realism. She moved forward into his embrace, surging up to her toes to take control of the kiss—or rather, to fight for control, since he was just as fierce and demanding as she was.

Her hands went from his shoulders to chest to the fastenings on his robe—already she was aching to touch him, to bring their bodies into contact. He broke away and caught her wrist.

"Not just yet, I think," he murmured, bending to trail a line of kisses down her jaw, to that sensitive spot just beneath her ear. She tilted her head back, hood falling away.

"Ohhh..." She loved that he could reduce her to a quivering mass with just lips and tongue and teeth. The sensation of need, of anticipation, was too delicious to imagine ever giving this up. _Don't think about that now._

"Please," she whispered, wanting more.

"On your knees."

She went quickly, unconcerned about the dirt or about how eager she seemed. If she hadn't already known how her eagerness turned him on, she would have known now by the way he had to fumble with his clothing, watching her instead of his cock as he pulled it free and guided it towards her mouth.

A moment later, Rodolphus was bracing himself against the wall with one arm, and with the other he gripped the back of her head as she took his thick cock deep into her mouth. The heat and tang of him set her insides tingling, from her belly all the way down to her knees, but she kept her eyes open because she knew he liked her to watch what she was doing.

She slid her tongue along the underside of his cock as she took it further, slowly, taking her time after so long without doing this. A little further—oh, how she longed to really get started—but they would get to that soon enough. At last she could go no further, but the iron grip on the back of her neck wouldn't allow her to pull away. She whimpered a little, looking up to meet his eyes through her lashes. He flexed his fingers, tightening his grip.

"Such a good cocksucker," he whispered, eyes darkening. "You like it like this, love how I fill your hot little mouth."

Another whimper rose in her throat. _Yes, yes, all yours, just let me please you._

Finally he relented, letting her pull all the way off to recover and catch her breath, and then she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and set about making him forget his own name. She licked and swirled her tongue, now teasing, now sucking more firmly, now pulling back to rub the head of his cock against her lips. She listened to the noises he made, following his cues and her own desires equally, but the longer it went on, the more tempted she was to move on to something else.

Fluttering her eyes, Narcissa slowly slid her free hand down, under the edge of her own robes so she could touch herself. The need for release was growing, and she was already throbbing with want, but she moved slowly, looking up at Rodolphus, not stopping the steady stroking with her mouth.

"Go ahead," he breathed, watching her. "I know you're such a whore for it that having your mouth fucked turns you on. Go on and finger yourself, you little..."

His words were cut off when she pressed her fingers against her own wetness, and in her excitement grew a little careless with her teeth. She pulled back to smirk, but resumed the rhythm of sucking before he could respond.

"Brat," he muttered. But she was beyond caring what he said now, quickly becoming lost to anything except the hard pounding of his cock in her mouth and the feel of her own hand, rubbing and moving in just the right ways. She could hear his breathing speed up, catching in his throat as he watched her, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she would finally get to taste him, to suck him down and swallow, feeling him push into her mouth over and over. Thinking of it made her thighs clench, and her fingers slid against her clit in a new way, unexpected, and she was suddenly shuddering and jerking her hips, crashing over the edge of her own orgasm. It was all she could do to keep her teeth off him as she shook, but then he thrust forward with a strangled sort of gasp. She let her mouth open wider and pumped him with her other hand, looking up to meet his eyes as he came.

 _Desire. Lust. True passion._ She knew then that she would not give this up.

-:-

"...a splendid ceremony, my dear, but didn't we ask the caterers to bring four different kinds of cheese for these hors d'oeuvre? I've only seen..."

"Excuse me," Rodolphus' voice cut smoothly through Mrs. Black's prattle. "I was hoping I might have the next dance with the bride."

Narcissa glanced up at the interruption, composing her face into just the right mix of respect for her elder sister's husband and lingering newlywed excitement. "Of course," she murmured. "Mother?"

Mrs. Black waved a hand at them, and Narcissa stood, laying her gloved hand on Rodolphus' arm. They moved out to the small dance floor, where a few other couples were turning circles in time to the music.

"You look lovely," Rodolphus said after a moment.

She smiled. She'd been told that at least a hundred times today, but this was the first time it had mattered. Still, she said nothing.

"Narcissa..." His voice had taken on a more uncertain quality. "About last night—"

She threw a glance to the far side of the banquet hall, where Lucius was surrounded by a small knot of wizards, including her father. They all looked polite and reserved and slightly bored, and she wondered if they all were truly as somber as they seemed. _Some men are quite different in the privacy of their own homes..._

She looked back at Rodolphus. "Let me guess, you're going to ask me again to reconsider seeing you, even though I am now a married woman."

His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her waist. "Yes."

"I've thought about it. I believe we can work out a mutually agreeable solution."

"What do you mean?"

Narcissa allowed a wicked sort of smile to spread across her face. "I'll speak to Lucius tonight." When he would perhaps be more amenable to suggestion. "All you have to do is... write me a letter."

Rodolphus frowned slightly. "What sort of letter?"

"Oh, just explain that you've discovered something potentially damaging about Lucius—something that the Dark Lord would be very displeased to learn. Make something up or just be vague, I don't care." She glanced across the hall again, this time catching Lucius' eye. He raised his glass, and she lifted her hand off Rodolphus' shoulder to wave.

Rodolphus followed her glance, and then turned back to face her. "Something damaging," he repeated, studying her.

"And then, of course, you must demand sexual favors in return for my silence."

Understanding dawned on his face. "I... see."

"Of course you do." Narcissa smiled again. Rodolphus was as much a Slytherin as she was. He would weigh his options, but in the end he would write the letter, and be just as careful about keeping their liaisons secret as she would be. And she would get a little insurance... just in case.

After all, a proper sort of girl should be careful with what risks she took, shouldn't she?

-:-


End file.
